


Blind Date

by devilsstaircase



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Blind Date, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 18:25:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14478576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilsstaircase/pseuds/devilsstaircase
Summary: Karen agrees to go on a blind date.Head's up! This is pure fluff. Don't say I didn't warn y'all. :D-Completed Work-





	1. Chapter 1

Florence Esposito swiveled her chair around and looked over at her coworker Karen Page’s office. Through the glass she could see Karen sifting through a large stack of paperwork, likely doing research for an article. Her blonde hair was up in a messy bun and the lipstick she had applied this morning was long gone, smeared off with a napkin during her lunch break. 

Her desk too was in disarray. Her in-box was stuffed with envelopes and requests from their boss Ellison and she had a large stack of books from the library in one corner. Three paper coffee cups were strewn haphazardly around her computer. Karen was currently rubbing her temples as she read something.

Florence shook her head. It was stressful working for a newspaper. Especially one with varying success like the New York Bulletin. Florence had been working there as a secretary for nearly fifteen years. She had been there through the paper’s high points and low points. Just last year she had been worried about losing her job. Nobody really read newspapers anymore. Much less bought a subscription to one. It was all about the internet and blogs written by amateurs who called themselves journalists when they hadn't even gone to school for journalism. They didn't have the years of hard work and sleepless nights that a lot of the journalists that worked at the Bulletin had under their belt.

The year before, Ellison, the editor in Chief and overall do everything man, had given the paper a complete overhaul. A couple of people had gotten fired but even more people had been hired. It had been a little late but he had finally decided to put the Bulletin online and they had a whole new IT department whose entire job was designing and maintaining their website. They rolled around the office on kick scooters and wore jeans and t-shirts with 80s cartoon characters to work like they thought they were working at Google or something. Ellison allowed it because the addition of the website had saved the newspaper and because he thought their youthful energy would be good for the grizzled Bulletin veterans. Ellison had also hired several new journalists. Young ones who could provide a voice for the generation X population of New York City. 

Karen was one of those new hires. A graduate of the S.I. Newhouse school of Public Communications at Syracuse University and ex-editor in Chief of the school's newspaper. She had also completed a year long internship for the Chicago Tribune and had been hired as soon as she had graduated. After five years of putting up with Chicago's blistering wind and numerous overseas assignments, she had decided to move to Manhattan and had taken on the job with the Bulletin. It was impressive really, especially for someone so young. Sometimes Florence wondered what Karen was even doing here at the Bulletin. She probably could've gone on to work at The New York Times if she had wanted to. 

Florence could see why Karen was so successful though. Karen worked late every single weekday. She was often the last one here and would leave only once the janitors arrived at 8 PM to clean. She would also frequently show up on the weekends and work for a few hours. The weekends. Florence couldn't imagine giving up her weekends like that. But there was a reason Karen thrived the way she did. Already she had her own column where she wrote opinion pieces on current events alongside regular news articles. She even had a small fan base. She had played a large role in the Bulletin’s recent upswing in readers. 

It was nearing 5 o'clock now and there was no way Florence would be working overtime today. Or ever. She had a family to go home to. She turned around to face her desk. She finished up filling Ellison's calendar with appointments then switched off the computer. She cleaned her desk of random pieces of trash, coffee cups and candy wrappers, and grabbed her purse. 

Before leaving she stopped by Karen's office. She tapped the glass door lightly with her knuckles. Karen looked up from her mountain of work and smiled broadly. She waved Florence inside.

“Hey, is it 5 already?” Karen asked as Florence walked in.

“it is. I'm heading out. I’d ask if you were too but I think we both know the answer to that,” Florence said looking pointedly at Karen's desk.

Karen laughed and shrugged, “You know me…”

“Listen, Karen,” Florence said. She shut the door behind her and approached Karen's desk as if she were about to divulge national secrets. Karen tensed slightly at her tone.

“What are you doing Friday night?”

Karen’s shoulders relaxed and she smiled, “I don't have any plans as of yet.”

“Good,” Florence said clapping her hands, “Look, I know someone. A guy I grew up with. I think you two would be just perfect for each other-”

“Oh God,” Karen held up her hands and shook her head. “Not this again.”

“Oh Karen. This time I mean it. He just moved back into town. I had just about forgotten all about him! But I promise, you'll like him.” Florence tucked a strand of her dark curly hair behind her ear and looked at Karen with pleading eyes.

Karen looked down at her desk and shook her head. Florence had been trying to get her to go on blind dates with men she knew for several months. She declined all of her offers after the first two disaster dates. She just didn't have the time for it nor did she even really want to date.

“This guy is not like the others,” Florence continued, “I promise, if you go on this date with this guy I will never ever ask you to go on any other blind dates ever again.”

Karen had to smile at Florence's exaggerated promise. She bit her lip. What could it hurt really? She was already way ahead of her work and could afford to do something fun this weekend. Although, whether it would be fun or not was yet to be seen. In any case, if the date turned out to be a flop she could always call her best friend to rescue her.

Florence was still looking at Karen trying not to look too excited. Karen hadn't immediately rejected her offer. It was a good sign. 

Finally, Karen shrugged, “Yeah. Okay, I'll do it.”

Florence squealed and pumped her first in the air.

“Okay,” Karen said rolling her eyes, “Don't get too excited.”

“Oh, I can't wait! I'll set it all up for you two. All you have to do is show up.”

Karen half smiled already regretting agreeing. “Can't wait,” she said but Florence was already dashing out of the room.

Florence tried not to skip to the elevators. Ecstatic that Karen had actually agreed. This date would be different she knew.

She couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Karen. Always working so hard. She didn't seem to have a life outside of it. A date was just what she needed to add a little spice to her life, Florence thought. Florence herself had a wonderful loving family and couldn't imagine her life without them. All she wanted was for her friend and coworker to have the same.

She emerged from the office building into bustling Manhattan. She smiled as she walked quickly to the subway, her heels clicking against the pavement. She would visit her childhood friend tonight. They were neighbors so it would be easy to drop by before dinner. She knew he would agree to this date. He had to. Who could possibly say no to a date with Karen Page?


	2. Chapter 2

“No.”

“Oh, come on. I haven’t even asked you anything yet,” Florence whined pushing her way into Frank Castle’s apartment.

Frank stepped back as Florence marched past him into his living room. He sighed and closed the front door, “Come on in,” he muttered.

“What’s that?” Florence called.

“Nothin’,” Frank said joining her in the living room. She stood next to the couch with her arms crossed.  
“Well, aren’t you going to ask me if I want to sit down?” She asked him when he didn’t say anything.

“Have a seat,” he said gesturing at the couch with an open palm.

She plopped down with a huff.

“So, what can I do for you?” He asked taking a seat in the armchair across from her.

“Who said I needed anything? Can’t a girl visit her oldest friend?”

Frank raised an eyebrow at her. Florence stared at him. Challenging him.

“Okay then. How are things?” He said settling back into the cushions.

Florence grabbed one of the throw pillows next to her and placed it in her lap. She picked at it and shrugged, “Oh you know. Work’s good. Kids are good. The usual. What about you?”

“Well, I-”

“Listen Frank, I’ve got a favor to ask you,” Florence said interrupting him. Her leg was bouncing up and down and her fingers were digging into the pillow. Whatever it was, it had Florence in a tizzy. He rescued the pillow from her iron grasp. His grandmother had embroidered that for him and he wasn’t about to let Florence destroy it with her fingernails.

“You said you didn’t need anything,” he said feeling exasperated. 

“Well, it’s not really for _me_. It’s for a friend. One of my coworkers,” she said. Her leg was still bouncing and Frank fought the urge to place his hand on her knee to stop it from moving around so much.

He waited. Florence looked down at her fingernails and bit her lip.

“What is it?” He sighed.

“Well, I… I kinda told her I’d set you two up on a blind date.”

Frank stared at her. She avoided his eyes. It wasn’t what he had expected. He thought maybe someone needed some money or he needed to go and look at someone’s leaking sink or something. But a blind date? 

“Look, Frankie… I just thought it would be nice. For you. I mean, ever since Maria…” She trailed off.  
Frank rubbed his forehead with his hand and began to shake his head.

“Oh Frankie, please!” Florence’s voice rose an octave and Frank cringed. 

“Oh for cryin’ out loud Flor. I’m really not in the right place to be datin’ right now,” he said feeling slightly annoyed, “I’ve got my job to think about and I just got here and I’m still settling.”

“Aaw Frank, you’re just making excuses,” Florence pouted, “I know you. You want to just brood in the dark by yourself forever but it’s about time you got yourself out there and started dating again.”

Florence had gotten up from the couch and had begun to pace back and forth in front of him with her hands on her hips. Frank thought about the years he had spent away from New York and realized how little nagging he had had to put up with then. The things one took for granted, he thought. Like silence. 

“I don’t brood,” he said.

Florence rolled her eyes, “Come on, Frankie. One date. One and I will never bother you about women again. I promise,” she said. She stopped pacing and stood in front of him with her hand on her heart.

He looked up at her. She was a woman in her mid thirties but she stood in front of him the same way she had when they had been children. Short and tiny but defiant, her curly hair a cloud around her face. 

_“Come on, Frankie. I promise we won’t get into any trouble.”_

_“Come on, Frankie. What are ya? Chicken?”_

And Frank usually indulging her in her requests. And usually getting into trouble. A lot of it too. In fact, she had been the one to introduce him to Maria. And that had been way more trouble than it had been worth.

“Flor, you were the one to introduce me to Maria,” he reminded her.

Florence stopped pacing and rolled her eyes again, “That was different.”

“Yeah? How?”

“Well, first of all, I didn’t set you guys up on a blind date. Second of all, I warned you about her,” she said pointing her finger at him like he was a child.

Frank sighed. She was right of course. She had warned him about her. 

“This girl is trouble, that’s what I said to you,” Florence added.

But he hadn’t listened to her. Maria had captivated him. Ensnared him. It was those goddamn hips, he thought. They had driven him crazy.

He shook his head to drive away his memory of her. “What makes you think this will be any different?”

Florence beamed and sat back down. “This girl is the real deal. She is dedicated to her work and just has an amazing personality. And she’s gorgeous Frank. I mean, absolutely beautiful.”

Frank rested his chin in his hand, “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. She could’ve been a supermodel for sure,” Florence nodded vigorously. 

“Sounds like a real catch,” he said, “What makes you think she’ll want anything to do with me?”

Florence eyes widened in surprise, “Are you kidding? This girl would be lucky to have you!” She hit him on the knee, “You’re a real catch too you know.”

Frank smiled at her. “I just mean, why me? Why not one of your other single friends?”

Florence pondered this. “Well, I just think you two would get along that’s all.” She shrugged, “There’s no science to it. I just have a good feeling about you two. Call it women’s intuition.”

“So, if I go on this date, you’ll never bother me about women again, right?”

Florence nodded slowly. 

“Okay then. It’s a date.”

Florence squealed like she had just won the lottery. 

“Oh, you won’t regret it Frankie,” she said, hurrying to the door, “I’ll let you know the details about the date later this week. It’ll be on Friday night. You’re free, right?” She whipped around and glared at him as if daring him to tell her he had other plans.

“Yeah, I’m free.”

“Perfect! Talk to you soon,” she said, slamming the door shut behind her. 

Frank sat in the armchair for a moment with his head in his hands. As much as Florence’s constant nagging and prodding annoyed him, he owed a lot of his success to her. They had grown up together in a suburb in Queens. After the death of his parents she had become like a big sister to him. Aside from occasionally goading him into doing things he shouldn’t be doing, she had also ensured he always had enough to eat and had encouraged him in school and sports. She had been the one to find him this apartment at a much lower price than the average rent in this neighborhood. She and the landlord went way back and she had put a good word in for Frank. That was just the way she was. She acted like everybody’s mother. But in a good way.

He walked over to the kitchen and washed his hands, scrubbing his forearms with his fingers. He had just come home from work when she had barged in. He was still wearing his navy blue work overalls. They were grimy and covered in oil. He was meticulous about hand washing but no matter how thorough and how often he washed them, to him they still always smelled like oil and it was difficult to get all of the grease off his skin. 

In the fridge he found lasagna leftovers that Florence had brought him the day before. She had a husband and three growing kids but often made enough food to feed an army. Frank would get a tupperware full of leftovers as did Mr. Beauford, their elderly neighbor across the hall. Sometimes she would make her kids pack an extra lunch to school to share with the kids who couldn’t afford to bring or buy their own lunch. That was something she had done as a kid too. 

Frank grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table to eat his leftovers. On the table he had left the day’s edition of the New York Bulletin. He was a subscriber, at Forence’s insistence, and read it every day because it was available and because he hated getting the news from the television. The internet was acceptable but it was a lot easier to eat and read a newspaper than it was to eat and scroll through the news on his phone. 

He read it cover to cover usually but sometimes skipped the fluffy articles with titles like “The Hats Worn at the Royal Wedding Cause a Major Stir” or “Meet the New Addition to the Kardashian Klan”. The Bulletin seemed to be publishing fewer of those articles these days much to Frank’s relief. 

As he read through the articles he wondered if Florence’s coworker was one of the journalists or one of the editors or maybe even a photographer. 

Contrary to what Florence thought she knew, he _had_ actually been going on dates. He had downloaded the Tinder app on his phone for the first time shortly after moving back to the city. He had matched with a couple of girls and gone out with them and had even brought a few of them home. But any connection he thought he may have had with them fizzled almost immediately the morning after. The women he had gone out with were only interested in hooking up or short flings. It wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy that kind of relationship. He was just in a place now where he wanted something a little more serious. He wanted someone by his side. Someone he could actually count on. Someone to lean on through the hard times and someone he could support in turn. That kind of relationship was hard to find in a city where the average age of marriage was five years higher than the rest of the country. It hadn’t taken him long to just delete the app entirely. 

Maybe this blind date would be a good thing, he thought, as he folded up the newspaper and took his plate to the sink. Something a little more old fashioned than Tinder. He’d be going in knowing nothing about his date at all, not even what she looked like, and that was a little exciting. If anything, the date would at least start out a lot more interesting than his Tinder dates had.

He made his way to his minimally furnished bedroom and removed his work clothes. He balled them up in his hands and threw them across the room in the direction of his laundry basket, as if he were shooting a basketball. He missed and the clothing landed on a pile of rumpled clothing next to the basket. He sighed and walked through the door leading into the bathroom. He turned the shower handle to hot and dropped down to the floor to do push ups while he waited for the water to heat up. 

He tried to imagine what she might be like. “She could’ve been a supermodel,” Florence had said. Frank imagined a tall woman, probably about his height, with long legs and long flowy dark hair, and almond shaped eyes. Maybe she’d have a mole near her lip like Cindy Crawford. 

Let’s not get too hopeful, he snorted at himself. He got up and hopped in the shower.

It was hard for him not to be hopeful though. He knew he would spend all week wondering about his mystery date. He also knew he probably shouldn’t in case it didn’t turn into anything and he ended up being disappointed. Even so he began to imagine a scenario where everything worked out and he ended up with a nice, caring girlfriend. 

“Get a grip, Romeo,” he said to himself as he lathered shampoo in his hair. It was way too early to get that ahead of himself. 

He’d never admit it to Florence but he was looking forward to this blind date. He’d been on many dates throughout his life but never a blind date set up by a mutual friend. Never a date where he didn’t at least know the girl’s name beforehand. He was feeling the same nervous anticipation he had felt before going on his first date ever as a teen. He didn’t know why, but for some reason this date felt important. 

He shut off the shower and grabbed his towel. He could already tell that it was going to be a long week.


	3. Chapter 3

The week flew by rapidly as most weeks at the office did. Karen ran around Manhattan conducting interviews and attending events. She spoke with a police officer about a string of burglaries in Midtown, with school teachers about a recent strike for better school funding, and with teenagers who walked out of school in the middle of the day to protest gun violence. 

Karen made sure she was there at every event with her notepad and pen in hand ready to take notes. She printed out article after article and slipped them into Ellison’s inbox throughout the week. The rest of the time she spent doing research for a special article she was working on for women’s history month. 

It seemed that in no time at all it was already Friday. Karen had her face buried in a research paper when she heard a light knock on the glass door of her office. It was Florence. She waved her inside.

“How’s it going?” Karen said leaning back in her chair and stretching her arms in the air.

“Good, good. I just wanted to give you instructions for your blind date tonight,” Florence said taking a seat in the chair in front of Karen’s desk.

“Blind date?”

Florence raised one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows.

“Oh, right. The blind date,” Karen said, remembering their conversation on Monday evening.

“You’re still going, right?” Florence asked eyeing Karen suspiciously.

“Yes, of course. I said I would.” 

There’d be no way to get out of it now. Maybe if she had remembered on Wednesday but today, well, it would just be rude to cancel with such short notice.

Florence’s eyes lit up, “Great! I got it all planned out for you two. You’ll meet tonight at 7:30 at The Coff.”

“The Cough?”

“Yeah, The Coff. It’s a cafe in the Village. Pretty easy to google the directions. I told him you’d be wearing a red scarf. You do have a red scarf, right?”

Karen tapped her cheek with her finger as she thought, “I have a maroon scarf. Does that work?”

Florence nodded, “Yeah, that works. I’ll let him know.”

“How will I recognize him?”

“He’ll be carrying a white rose with him.”

“A rose?”

 

“Don’t worry. He’ll be getting it from me. It’s not like he went out and bought it with you in mind. It’s purely for identification purposes,” Florence reassured her with a wink.

Karen nodded. She looked down at her outfit. She was wearing her usual pencil skirt and blouse combination paired with flats. She glanced at the time on her computer’s monitor. It was nearing 5 o’clock. 

“I guess I’ll head out early today to get ready,” she said.

“Girl, this is the normal time to be heading home.”

They laughed. 

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Florence continued, “I gave my friend instructions on where to go if the date goes well. If it doesn’t go well you can part ways and no harm done. But if it goes well… then I planned a few more activities to do after The Coff.”

“Sounds mysterious,” Karen said.

They talked for a few more minutes about the date before Florence got up from the chair to go home.

“I have a good feeling about this, Karen,” she said as she walked out the door. She waved at Karen through the glass and blew her a kiss.

Karen smiled. She was hoping Florence’s feelings were right. The two blind dates Florence had set up for her a few months ago had been terrible. The first one had been a complete mismatch. All he had wanted to talk about was how much money he made and his plans for career advancement. Karen had texted one of her friends to call her up about an “emergency” so that she could have an excuse to end the date early. The second date hadn’t even shown up. Karen had sat there in a cafe in Little Italy for 45 minutes before finally bailing. It had been humiliating. Florence had apologized profusely. She had apparently misjudged both men and had assured Karen that she would give them a piece of her mind. Karen had never followed up on that. Instead, she had refused every offer for a blind date since. This time though, Florence seemed genuinely convinced that it would be different. She said this guy was like a little brother to her which meant she at least knew him very well. Karen took some consolation in knowing that. 

She had been so busy the last few days she hadn’t given the date a single thought but now that it was only a couple of hours away she began to feel nervous. She exhaled and sat up. Quickly she packed her things and shut off her computer and for the first time since she had started working at the Bulletin, left the office shortly after five.

Back in her apartment she stared at the contents in her closet. She wondered how casual or formal she should go. She wanted to make a good impression on whoever her date was going to be and decided it was better to overdress a little than underdress. Besides, it had been a while since she had had a reason to dress up. 

It was springtime but it would be chilly in the evening. She selected a black strappy dress with a flared skirt, sheer black tights, maroon pumps, a gray wool peacoat, and of course the maroon scarf. She laid the clothes out on the bed and hopped into the shower. Now that she had her outfit selected she was beginning to feel excited and nervous. What would this guy be like, she wondered.

Florence had said nothing about him except that she’d known him a long time. He could be anyone. He was probably around her height. At 5’10 Karen was taller than the average woman in New York. Women of her height in this city were typically actual models or worked in the fashion industry. Often men were intimidated by her height and avoided her but she herself had no qualms about dating someone shorter than her. 

She got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body. She grabbed her hair dryer and began to blow dry her hair and thought about what her date might look like. She imagined a man, medium build, her height or near it, with dark hair. So basically, a nondescript man. Like a Ken doll. 

What if he was completely different from the men she usually went after, she thought. She tended to like so-called “nerdy” guys. A little bit awkward, sometimes shy but not necessarily. Maybe wore glasses and preferred to play chess over watching the superbowl.

Maybe her date was a total jock. Or really into punk rock. Maybe he had a mohawk and tattoos. Or maybe he was a surfer type who used a bunch of surfer lingo when he spoke. 

“Tubular”, she said to herself and grinned.

She fluffed up her hair and ran her fingers through it. Her last serious relationship had been in college to a premed student. Kyle Davis had been his name. They dated for three years before splitting because he was going to head to medical school in Florida and neither of them believed a long distance relationship would work. She hadn’t heard from him since.

After that she hadn’t had any really serious relationships. A couple of short flings that lasted a few months and one friends with benefits relationship in Chicago that ended as soon as she moved away.

Still wrapped in her towel she made her way over to her vanity table to begin applying her makeup. She applied it with a light hand going for a more natural look. She sat back to examine her reflection. She smiled at herself. She knew she looked good and the confidence made her glow.

“Whoever he is,” she said to her reflection, “He better be ready for me.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Is that what you’re going to wear?” Florence asked as soon as Frank opened his front door.

She was standing in the hallway looking critically at his outfit. He looked down. He was wearing black combat boots, dark wash jeans, and a black button down, untucked of course. 

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing. I mean, it looks good… if you were trying to go for the goth look,” Florence said pushing past him into his apartment.

“This ain’t goth,” he said as if offended, “Black is a classic color.”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever. Here,” she said handing him a single white rose.

“What’s this?” He took it and held it at arm’s length.

“It’s so that my friend recognizes you at the cafe. Just lay it on the table when you get there and she’ll know you’re the right guy.”

“You gotta be kidding me. You couldn’t have picked a less… romantic flower?” He asked, laying the rose on the kitchen table, “I don’t want her to think I’m… creepy or something.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. She knows it’s just so she can confirm you’re the right guy,” Florence said with an impatient wave of her hand. “Anyway, here’s the deal. You guys will meet at The Coff in The Village and have a coffee or whatever. She’ll be wearing a maroon scarf, Frank, don’t forget that! If things go well,” she handed him two envelopes, “Open envelope number 1 for the second activity of the night. If that goes well too, envelope number 2 contains a third activity you guys can enjoy.”

She beamed at him like the planning of the date had been a homework assignment and she had just handed it in to the teacher.

“What if things go well but we don’t like the activities in the envelope?”

Florence’s smile faltered. “Well, I guess you guys can do something else. Look, it’s just a guideline. It takes the pressure off of trying to come up with something else to do.”

Frank nodded, “That’s actually a really good idea.”

Florence grinned, “What can I say? Planning is my specialty.”

Frank glanced at the digital clock on his microwave. It was 6:30. “I should go.”

“What? You still have an hour!”

“I’m punctual,” Frank said, grabbing his leather jacket from the hall closet. He stuffed the envelopes in the pocket and grabbed the white rose from the coffee table.

Florence followed him to the front door.

“You’re going to have a great time, Frank,” she said.

Frank locked up the door behind him and made sure he had his wallet, phone, and keys by patting the corresponding pockets of his coat and jeans. Convinced he had everything he needed, he turned to walk towards the stairwell.

“Go get em’, Frank! Remember, she’ll be wearing a maroon scarf!” Florence called behind him.

He raised his arm in the air and waved at her without turning back. 

Out on the streets the city was buzzing. It was Friday night, the classic date night. Everywhere around him were clusters of people going out for a good time. His heart began to pound a little faster as he jogged down the steps of the nearest subway station. Waves of anxiety rolled throughout his body and for a moment, as he stood waiting on the platform for the train to come to a stop, he had difficulty catching his breath. 

What the hell is wrong with you, he thought to himself. It’s just a date. With some woman you don’t even know. 

But that was exactly the problem. All week he had imagined what kind of woman she might be. In his imagination he had been on this date hundreds of times, each time with a different woman. Sometimes he imagined someone as beautiful and intimidating as Salma Hayek. Other times he had briefly panicked at the thought that Florence would set him up with someone who was just like her.

The point was he had no idea. And as the week went by and the date loomed nearer and nearer his excitement had given way to fear. 

He took the subway to the 8 Street Station and got off. He shuffled along with the mass of people back towards the surface. The Coff was located a few blocks North West of the station and he decided to cut through Washington Square Park. The park was filled with a large crowd of mostly tourists and college students watching a group of young guys perform. They were breakdancing to the beat of a drum set made out of buckets. Frank paused briefly to watch one of the guys do a kick, supporting his body with one arm on the ground, his legs in the air in a near perfect L shape. Frank walked away as the crowd began to cheer.

He arrived at The Coff at exactly 7:00 PM. He stood across the street and studied the outside. The cafe’s name was painted on the window in a neat cursive. There was a bench next to the doorway for people who were waiting for seats, and a dog bowl filled with water. On the bike rack across from the entrance someone had locked an actual penny farthing. 

“Jesus Christ,” Frank said under his breath, “Is this some kind of hipster joint?”

The interior confirmed his fears. The lights were merely light bulbs hanging down from the ceiling on strings. There were hundreds of them, all of varying length. One wall was entirely covered by a bookshelf. The chairs and tables didn’t match at all. He spotted three guys with lumberjack beards working on macbooks, and nearly everyone had at least one tattoo. Frank was suddenly glad he had shaved that day. 

“Ready to order?” The barista behind the bar said eyeing him. He was a young and burly guy with a fade haircut and an enormous beard, about 5 piercings in each ear, and wearing suspenders.

“Uh.. I’m meeting someone here,” Frank said.

“Okay, have a seat anywhere you like,” the barista said before turning to the person standing behind Frank. 

Frank selected a small table near the bookshelf. He took the seat facing the rest of the cafe so that he could have a clear view of the entrance. On the table there was a small rusty candlestick holder with a fake candle. Frank shook his head in mild revulsion. He placed the white rose across from him on the table and turned to the bookshelf behind him. He had a lot of time to spare so he figured he may as well read something. 

He grabbed a book at random.

“Veganism: The Ultimate Guide.”

He immediately replaced it. He tilted his head and read a few of the titles and finally selected a Tom Clancy novel. He was surprised they even had any Clancy in this place. 

He began to read but found he wasn’t really registering the words. He kept glancing up at the doorway whenever the bell jingled upon someone entering it. His heart would skip a beat any time another woman walked in. But it was still too early for his date to be arriving. Unless she was as punctual as him. He slammed the book shut and let out a sharp exhale trying to calm his nerves. 

The bell jingled again and his face shot up in a Pavlovian reaction. A woman with short red hair and a bright red scarf stood in the doorway looking around the cafe. Frank’s heart leaped in his chest and when her eyes met his he almost stood up but a moment later she waved at someone sitting at an adjacent table and Frank remembered to breathe again.

Maroon. Her scarf is supposed to be maroon, he remembered. He glanced at his watch. He still had a quarter of an hour of waiting to do and that was assuming she arrived on time. She could be late. Or maybe she wouldn’t be showing up at all. Frank felt his heart sink at the thought. What if she stood him up?

He turned back to his book and tried in vain not to look at the door every time the bell rang. The cafe was beginning to fill up with more and more twenty somethings and Frank was beginning to feel out of place. He glanced at his watch. It was 7:35. She should probably have been here by now. He abandoned the book he had been trying to read and kept his eyes on the door and window, watching people peer into the cafe and either come inside or move on to the next place. 

The more time passed the less nervous he began to feel. Instead he was beginning to believe that she was probably going to stand him up. He checked his watch again. Fifteen minutes had passed. 

“God damn it,” he said, Why had he ever listened to Florence? He had spent all week thinking about this date. He reached for his cell phone to call Florence up and ask her what the hell was going on when the bell jingled once again and Frank looked up instinctively. 

A woman, alone, stood at the entrance glancing around the room, her eyes studying each face. Her long blonde hair, slightly windswept, tumbled down her shoulders and she was breathing heavy as though she had been running. Her cheeks were flushed and she wore dark red lipstick that matched her heels and scarf. Her scarf. Peeking out from underneath her hair and peacoat he could see a maroon scarf. 

He stood up immediately and so quickly that he slammed his hip against the table, causing it to scrape against the floor. The sound tore through the quiet chatter and typing on macBooks that had made up the cafe’s background noise up to that point. Several heads turned to look at him in surprise. Including the woman’s.

Even from a distance he could see that her eyes were a light blue. Almost clear. She looked at him with an expression of confusion for a moment and he felt a jolt travel through him when their eyes met. She glanced down at the table and spotted the white rose, paused, then looked at him again. Frank swallowed hard realizing that his throat had gone dry. His nerves had returned full blast. 

She made her way over to him, weaving around arm chairs and tables, until she was standing right in front of him.

“Hi,” she said a smile playing at her lips.

“Hi,” Frank said his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat. “Are you Flor’s coworker?”

“Florence Esposito, yes,” she said her smile broadening, “You must be my date.”

Frank felt his face grow hot at the word “date”. 

She held her hand out to him, “My name is Karen Page,” she said.

“Frank Castle,” he said shaking her hand. Her hand was cold and soft but she had a firm grip and he felt the presence of her hand in his linger even after they had let go.

He hurried over to the other side of the table and took her chair out for her. 

“Oh, why thank you!” Karen said removing her peacoat before sitting down. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

Frank shrugged, “I’m an old fashioned kinda guy.”

He tried not to stare at her shoulders as he sat back down in his seat. She was wearing a black dress with thin straps and her shoulders were on full display. He felt his hands begin to sweat. 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said running a hand through her hair and tucking away the flyaway strands.

“Wha- late? Nah, it’s not that late,” he said looking at his watch but not really seeing what time it was.

Karen smiled, “No, I’m really late and I’m so sorry. I thought this place was called The Cough,” she said.

He stared at her.

“You know? Like eh eh,” she fake coughed into her hand.

“Oh,” Frank nodded and laughed, “That would be a weird name for a cafe.”

“Right? I was so confused,” she said laughing. He noticed she had a mole near her lip. She really was like a supermodel.

“You uh… you look nice,” he said looking at her but at the same time trying not to look at her too much.

“Thank you,” she said. “You look good too. A lot different than I expected.”

“Yeah? How so?”

Karen shrugged, “Oh, I dunno. Just… different.” Her face had turned an adorable red and Frank smiled. 

“You’re different than I imagined too,” he said.

“How so?” She smiled.

“Ah…” Frank scratched the back of his neck wondering if he should say it. He glanced at her. She was watching him, already on the verge of laughter. He shrugged, “Just… different.” 

She laughed and the sound made Frank feel warm inside. He wanted to continue to make her laugh all throughout the date just to hear it. 

She looked around the cafe and they sat quietly for a moment.

“Can I get you a drink?” Frank asked her breaking the silence.

“Uh.. yeah, that would be great,” She said turning all the way around in her seat and squinting at the menu on the far wall behind them.

Frank watched her as she read through the menu. Her hair came down almost to the middle of her back. She sat straight in her chair with perfect posture and her dress hugged her small waist. The skirt of the dress fell a few inches above her knees and her long lean legs extended beneath it. Frank noticed a few more moles on her neck and arms. 

She is beautiful, he thought. More beautiful than any of the women he had imagined throughout the week. More beautiful than any woman he had ever been on a date with. 

Karen turned back towards him and he quickly looked away and at the menu behind her, pretending to read its contents.

“I’d like a hot chocolate,” she said, “With the little marshmallows.”

Frank smiled, “One hot chocolate. Comin’ right up.”

He walked up to the counter and waited in line. He chanced a glance back at Karen and saw she was reading the back cover of the Clancy novel he had been trying to read. Her back was to him, and her hair seemed to shimmer in the light emanating from the many lightbulbs. Maybe those bulbs weren’t as dumb as he had initially thought. 

The barista’s voice interrupted Frank’s thoughts, “Next in line.”

Frank tore his eyes away from Karen, “Uh.. hi. Can I get a medium hot chocolate with marshmallows and uh…a small coffee, please. Black.”

“Do you want almond, soy, rice, or oat milk for that hot chocolate?”

Frank stared at the barista dumbfounded, “What? Just milk.”

“We only have plant based milk here, sir.”

“Of course,” Frank smirked, “Almond? I guess. Whatever tastes good.”

“One medium hot chocolate with almond milk and marshmallows and one small black coffee. Anything else? A scone perhaps?”

Frank hadn’t realized they sold baked goods too. He examined the display of sweets and wondered if Karen would want one. 

“The chocolate chip cookies are popular,” the barista offered. 

“Yeah okay. One chocolate chip cookie, please.”

Frank paid for his purchases and carried the two mugs and the cookie back to the table. He set Karen’s mug in front of her and she wrapped her hands around it.

“Mmm. Thanks so much, Frank.”

He sat down and placed the cookie in the middle of the table.

“What’s that?” Karen asked.

“A cookie. I thought we could share.”

She smiled at him and her gaze flustered him so much he grabbed his mug and took a sip as a distraction. The coffee was still way too hot but he forced himself to swallow in an automatic attempt to save face. 

“What’d you get?” She asked him.

“A black coffee.”

“At this hour? You won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“Ahh, I’m used to it,” Frank said.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep later, black coffee or not. 

Karen picked up the white rose on the table and held it up to her nose. Seeing it there Frank realized it had been the perfect choice of flower. It was a romantic choice, yes, but it seemed to suit Karen. It complemented the color of her hair and eyes and even her lipstick. As if reading his mind Karen said, “Florence has good taste in flowers, huh?”

“Apparently,” he said shrugging. 

Karen placed the rose on the table and sat back in her chair.

“I feel a little overdressed for this place,” Karen said looking around again. Frank followed her gaze. Most of the other customers were wearing flannel and slouchy beanies, “Florence’s blind dates should come with a dress code.”

Frank laughed. “You look fine. Besides we might have other places to go after this,” he said trying not to sound too hopeful.

She nodded as if remembering. 

“So, Frank,” she said a little more business like and sitting up straighter, “Florence has told me nothing about you.”

Frank chuckled and ran his hand through his hair. “She told me nothing about you either,” he said.

“Well, then,” Karen said folding her arms onto the table, “Where shall we begin?”


	5. Chapter 5

Everything about the date so far was different from what Karen had imagined. First of all, “The Cough”, really? How could she have gotten _that_ wrong? Second of all, what was with the hipster cafe? She’d have to ask Florence about that later. And thirdly, Frank Castle. 

He was nothing like she had imagined. And he was very different from any guy she had gone on a date with or even flirted with before. 

She hadn’t had that much time to feel nervous about the date. After work she had rushed home to get ready which had taken longer than she had intended. Then she had taken the wrong subway to the wrong station and had had to run through the station, up several staircases to get to the other side of the tracks to get on the right train. Once back on the surface she had ran the final few blocks to the cafe. And all of it in 4 inch heels too. 

It wasn’t until she had burst through the door that she had felt a brief moment of panic when she realized what was about to happen, before it dissolved when Frank had jumped up from his seat in the back and their eyes had met. After that she had felt only curiosity. 

It was obvious, even before she saw the white rose on the table, that he was The Guy. No one else had so much as glanced at her when she had walked in. Frank, on the other hand, had looked like a deer caught in headlights. Not to mention all the racket he had made when he had gotten up from his chair. Clearly, he had been nervous. And that had endeared him to her somewhat after she had realized that physically, he wasn’t the type she normally went for.

She had been right when she had guessed he was about her height, which granted, had been an easy guess. But she had been completely wrong on every other point. He was stocky and muscular and undoubtedly worked out regularly. Nothing like the skinny or soft guys she had dated in the past. He had impeccable posture almost military-like and she had wondered if he had served. Seeing the Clancy novel on the table had made her wonder even more. A crew cut would have all but confirmed it but his hair was long enough that he could run his fingers through it and when she had walked in it had been laying flat on his head. After they had gotten to talking though he had run his fingers through it several times and his hair now stuck out in different directions, a few strands falling down near his eyes. 

He was a little rough around the edges, and his nose looked like it had been broken several times. But he had a nice smile that lit up his whole face. And by his actions, him bringing her a cookie for example, his nervous laughter, the way he looked at her, she sensed that there was softness underneath that tough exterior. A softness that she found she wanted to get to know better.

“Is this your first blind date?” She asked him now. She took a sip of her hot chocolate. She wondered if she should split the cookie in the middle of the table in half or if she should wait. 

Frank nodded, “Yup. How about you?”

“Third.”

Frank’s eyebrows shot up and Karen nodded. 

“It’s hard to say no to Florence.”

“Ha. Don’t I know it,” Frank said shaking his head, “So the other two dates didn’t work out, huh?”

“Nope. They were disasters. One of them stood me up and the other… well, he just wasn’t my type.”

“Ah…” Frank said. He looked like he wanted to say something else but instead he grabbed his mug and took a long sip. This guy is definitely not going to sleep tonight, Karen thought.

“So, Florence says you guys are childhood friends?” Karen prompted. Frank appeared to be the strong silent type. That or he really was that nervous. 

“Yeah. Her parents and mine go way back. She’s like a sister to me. An annoying sister.”

Karen laughed, “Florence can be a handful. But she’s really sweet.”

“Yeah,” Frank agreed, “She said you guys work together?”

Karen sat up straighter. She loved talking about her job. “Yes, we work at The New York Bulletin. I’m a reporter. I’ve been there about a year now.”

“Oh yeah? I’ve probably read some of your articles,” Frank said looking interested, “I’m a subscriber.”

“No kidding? Wait, let me guess… Florence?”

Frank nodded and Karen shook her head. “Do you like the paper though?”

“It’s gotten a lot better than it used to be,” Frank said shrugging.

Karen looked at him in surprise. Most people would say something like, “Oh yeah. Love it.” They’d never admit to her if they thought the paper sucked. Especially not if they were trying to impress her. Like if they were on a first date together for example. 

“We’ve been working really hard trying to get our numbers up. It’s kind of the reason I wanted to work at The Bulletin,” she said, “I wanted the experience in turning a newspaper around. So far, I think we’re doing pretty well.”

Karen paused and took another sip of her hot chocolate. Frank grabbed the cookie and split it in two handing Karen the bigger half. 

“Thank you,” she said. She thought maybe she saw Frank’s cheeks color a little but she wasn’t sure. 

“What about you, Frank?” She said taking a bite of the cookie.

“I’m a mechanic,” he said, “I work in Harlem at an auto shop owned by one of my friends.” 

Karen nodded. That explained his calloused hands and strong forearms. “Florence said something about you moving back to the city recently?”

“I thought you said you knew nothing about me,” Frank said smiling. 

“Well, she let that one slip,” Karen laughed. 

“Yeah, I moved back about a year ago. I was living in Connecticut.”

“Is that where you grew up?”

“Nah, I was born and raised in Queens.” 

“What took you to Connecticut?”

Frank sighed and Karen sensed that Connecticut was a sensitive subject. 

“My ex-wife,” he said.

“Oh,” Karen said. 

_Oh?_ That was something she had not been expecting. It was probably best not to pry even though she desperately wanted to know the story.

“Well, I moved here about a year ago too,” Karen said steering the conversation away from his ex-wife.

“Yeah? Where from?”

“Chicago. I was working at a newspaper there.”

“You from Chicago?”

“No, I was born and raised in Vermont.”

“Vermont? What brought you to New York? I mean, besides the Bulletin…” Frank asked before eating his half of the cookie in two quick bites.

“Ahh… well, you know,” Karen said beginning to blush. “It was always kind of a dream of mine to come here. You know, the classic small town kid with big city dreams cliche?” 

“And… is it living up to your dreams?”

“Well, I was expecting a fast paced life but it’s definitely a lot crazier than I ever imagined,” she said laughing, “But I think living in Chicago definitely prepared me for that a little bit.”

“You like Chicago or New York better?”

“Oh definitely New York.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame you. I love this city. Now that I’m back I don’t think I’ll ever want to live beyond the boroughs again,” Frank said sitting up even straighter in his chair. 

Karen pushed her empty mug aside and placed her arms on the table.

“So you live in Manhattan?” Frank asked crossing his arms over his chest then immediately uncrossing them. He seemed not to know what to do with them. He ran his fingers through his hair which left a few strands sticking straight up. 

“Yeah, you?”

Frank nodded, “East Harlem.”

“Hell’s Kitchen.”

“That’s kind of a shady neighborhood huh?”

“What about East Harlem?”

Frank smiled. 

Sure, her neighborhood had frequent car break ins, loud fights in the middle of the night that she could hear through her poorly insulated apartment, and sometimes she’d even find the occasional heroin needle on the sidewalk outside her building, but she had gotten used to living in sketchy neighborhoods ever since living in Chicago. Working for a newspaper didn’t really pay enough to afford to live in better neighborhoods. Especially not in New York City.

“I didn’t want any roommates,” she explained.

“Why not?”

“Ugh, I went through that hell in college and I decided never again.”

“Must’ve been really bad.”

“It was. Though sometimes when I pay my rent I reconsider…” She said smiling. 

Someone at a nearby table let out a shriek of laughter and Karen realized the place was packed. There was a line out the door and every seat was taken. She glanced down at her phone and checked the time and to her surprise an entire hour had gone by. 

“This place is really filling up,” she said turning back to Frank. 

“Yeah. Uh… did Florence tell you about… the other plans she had made?” He said sounding embarrassed. 

“Yeah. She said you’d know about those.”

“Well, do you… wanna… I mean... “ Frank stammered.

“I’m up for doing something else,” she said shrugging. So far she felt like she didn’t really know anything about Frank yet. He was a mechanic, spent some time in Connecticut, grew up in Queens and now lived in East Harlem. But that wasn’t enough to really know what kind of a person he was. He hadn’t been rude or unpleasant throughout their conversation and Karen was enjoying being out and about for once instead of still at the office working. Whatever Florence had planned for them seemed like a lot more fun than just going home alone. 

Frank pulled out two envelopes from his back pocket. He read the front of both of them then returned one to his pocket and handed her the other.

The envelope had a large 1 written on the front. 

“What’s this?” She asked turning it over.

Frank shrugged, “Open it.”

She opened it and inside she found two tickets to a place called “The John Davidson Art Gallery” for 9:30. 

“They’re for an exhibition at an art gallery a few blocks uptown from here,” Karen said handing Frank one of the tickets.

“Art?” Frank studied the ticket. 

Karen smiled broadly, “ Should be fun right?”

Frank looked up at her and raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe they’ll have drinks,” Karen said.

They gathered their coats and made their way out of the now bustling cafe. Outside it was dark and chilly and Karen wrapped her scarf more snugly around her neck. They began to walk in the direction of the art gallery and Karen calculated it would likely take about twenty minutes. 

On the street corner someone had dragged out an upright piano on wheels and sat playing it in the middle of the sidewalk. A small crowd had gathered around it and Karen could hear the sounds of a whimsical tune as they approached it. It made her feel like she was in a movie. One of those black and white flicks from the 40s. In this scene everyone would break out in a choreographed dance while singing about New York City nightlife. 

For a moment she had the urge to grab Frank by the arm and lean into him. The music had her feeling romantic. Karen laughed to herself and Frank turned to look at her.

“What?” He asked.

Karen shook her head and pointed at the piano. She watched him turn to look at it with a confused expression on his face. Standing so close to him she noticed his strong jawline and the stubble on his cheeks and chin. She felt a sudden wave of desire that caught her completely off guard. 

Frank turned back to her and she looked away quickly.

“What about it?” He said. 

“Oh, nothing. Just… New York,” she said. 

He nodded and smiled, “Yeah, it is pretty New York huh?”

She smiled and tried to ignore the way his eyes lit up when he looked at her. She had just met the guy and barely knew anything about him. It was way too soon to be feeling something for him already. 

Right? She asked herself this as they crossed the street. She noticed he walked on the outer side of the sidewalk which was one of those outdated etiquette rules that a gentleman would follow. Something about it being safer for a woman to be away from the road where there were cars that could hit her or puddles of water that could ruin her shoes. Even when she subtly moved herself to the outer side he’d find a way to reverse that without her even noticing. He didn't even seem to be aware of what he was doing. He just did it. As if it had been grilled into him that women should walk on the inner side of the sidewalk and men on the outer. That he should take out a woman’s chair before she sat or let her have the larger half of a shared meal. 

She smiled to herself. He really was an old fashioned kind of guy, she thought. This muscular tough guy who looked like he would get into a bar fight if the opportunity presented itself was actually one of the most polite men she had ever met. And not even consciously. 

Who would have thought? Frank Castle was turning out to be more interesting than she had ever imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next week: Frank and Karen at an art gallery.


	6. Chapter 6

Frank and Karen made it to the address of the art gallery at exactly 9:30. In front of them a short line snaked its way out of the entrance of a brick building. Nothing else around so much as hinted that they were at the right place. Karen politely asked one of the people in line if this was indeed the John Davidson Gallery and received a haughty affirmation. 

They made their way to the end of the eclectic line. Just in front of them an elderly couple whispered to each other, wrapped in what seemed like hundreds of layers. Ahead of the couple a small group of college aged kids loudly traded stories about upcoming exams. 

Surrounding skyscrapers made of glass and steel towered above the squat narrow brick building. It looked out of place as if it had been plucked out of another neighborhood somewhere and planted in the middle of Midtown, Manhattan. Blackout curtains on all the windows prevented anyone outside from getting so much as a peep of what they might find inside. The place seemed to be shrouded in a veil of mystery and Frank wondered what they might find.

He was definitely beginning to have reservations. The strangeness of the building and the wide-ranging crowd of waiting visitors didn’t help. He also wasn’t really much of an art guy. Some of the more realistic paintings like of bowls of fruit or architecture were pretty good and he could appreciate the work that went into them. And some photography was good too. Especially if they included subject matter pleasing to the eye. But most of the time he didn’t pay much attention to it. He had always associated art with rich snobs. But Karen seemed excited to be out and her excitement was contagious. He wanted to spend more time with her anyway and thanks to that cup of coffee earlier he was feeling wired.

“What do you think we’ll find inside?” Karen asked with a glint in her eye. He thought maybe she could tell he wasn’t really into art galleries.

Frank sighed, “Honestly? Probably just some paint splattered on some canvas with price tags in the thousands.”

The elderly couple in front of them turned to glare at him and Karen held her hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. 

“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad,” she said after she had composed herself, “I mean… Florence picked it out.”

Frank thought about The Coff and how it was the first and last time he would likely ever go there. “That’s not exactly a good thing,” he said.

Karen laughed out loud and he turned to look at her with a pleased half-smile on his face. 

When they reached the front of the line he stepped aside to let Karen go first. They checked their coats at the coat check in the lobby and were advised to walk through the gallery in a clockwise direction for the best experience. 

From the lobby they walked through a brick archway and entered a large room. The lights were dim, with a small spotlight illuminating each piece of art to better appreciate it. Immediately to their left a small bar was serving drinks.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked Karen turning to face her.

She was looking up and Frank followed her gaze. A mirror stretched across the entire ceiling and he found himself looking up at himself. 

“It’s like looking at a parallel universe, isn’t it?” Karen said softly beside him. She waved at her reflection. “It makes this place feel gigantic.” 

He looked away from the mirror and shrugged, “I guess. But why put it on the ceiling? Most people don’t even look up.”

She shook her head, “Maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s reminding us to look up sometimes.”

Frank considered this as she moved away from him towards the bar.

She turned to look at him over her shoulder, “Well? Would you like something to drink?”

She bought two glasses of red wine and handed one to him.

“Cheers,” Frank said holding up his glass. 

“Cheers,” she said touching her glass to his then taking a sip. 

They walked over to the nearest piece of art. It was a white canvas. Frank had to squint to read what was written in the middle of it in a fine cursive.

“C, T, R, L, dash, Z” he said sounding out each letter.

“Undo,” Karen said, “That’s the shortcut for undoing something you type on a computer.”

Frank raised an eyebrow and glanced at the price tag. The piece was selling for $1800. 

“What the hell?” Frank said unable to contain his incredulity. 

“Hmm.. well,” Karen said taking a sip of her wine and putting on a fake British accent, “I think maybe with the blankness of the rest of the canvas, the artist was trying to convey the feeling of wanting to ‘undo’ nothingness.” She turned to Frank with a serious expression, “Wouldn’t you say?”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

Karen kept a straight face, “Well, in this age of information, where anything you put on the internet exists forever, it’s kind of like saying… what if... there was nothing to ‘undo’?”

Frank turned to look at her and saw that her face was red with the effort of trying not to laugh. 

“You have no idea what the artist meant with this, do you?” He said shaking his head. 

She laughed. “Well, what do you think?”

“I think it’s bullshit,” he said simply. 

“Frank! You can’t just say that,” Karen said in a hushed tone. She looked around them to see if anyone had overheard him.

“What? It’s what I think.”

“Come on,” Karen said grabbing his arm and dragging him away. He liked the way it felt to have her hands on his arm. 

The next piece was displayed on a small pedestal inside of a glass cube. It was a smashed smartphone with a hammer laying next to it. It was not for sale. 

Karen looked at it and then looked at Frank and burst out laughing at the sight of the expression on his face. She covered her mouth quickly with her hand. Her laugh had been loud against the soft hushed voices of the other visitors and there wasn’t any music to drown it out either.

Frank stared at the phone and hammer in disgust. 

“Why?” he asked.

“Well,” Karen said speaking in a British accent again, “Obviously, the artist meant to express his frustrations at modern technology. In choosing a cell phone we can assume that the artist especially abhors that feeling of constant connectivity to the world. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yeah, but why would you smash a perfectly good cell phone? That makes no sense.”

“It’s art,” Karen said shrugging her small shoulders.

Frank grinned in spite of himself. Karen appeared to be enjoying making up stories to go along with the art. He would never have come here on his own but Karen made it bearable. Even fun.

They moved on into the next room which was more brightly lit than the last. There were patches of fake grass around each display. They stopped at the nearest one. This one was an actual painting. But it was the strangest painting Frank had ever seen. 

It was of a dinner scene with a man seated at a round table wearing a handkerchief around his neck. He was slumped in his chair with his head lolling to the side. He appeared to be dead. The table was covered with food. A roasted chicken, slices of pizza, apples, pieces of bread except all of the food had faces. Like some weird animated movie about food. The food appeared to be celebrating the fact that the man was dead.

“Wow,” Karen said in her normal accent, “I don’t even know where to begin with this one.”

Frank took a long sip of wine, “What do you mean?” He said trying to sound British but instead sounding like a Southerner who was trying to sound British. 

Karen snorted. 

Frank continued, “Obviously, the artist is protesting against consumerism.” He said pointing at the painting with an open palm. 

“No,” Karen said giggling, “Please, stop. Your British accent is terrible.” She placed her hand on his shoulder and Frank felt her touch sear through his shirt. 

“You’re right. This painting is… how do you say? Bollocks?” He said pronouncing bollocks as ball-ox. 

Karen burst out laughing. 

“2400 dollars for this one,” Frank said when she had finally calmed down, “Jesus Christ. Can you believe that?”

Karen wiped at her eye, her cheeks still flushed and shook her head. 

The rest of this part of the gallery wasn’t really any better. Though Frank did notice a kind of theme. Every piece seemed to be against consumerism in some way but he didn’t really know if the artist had intended it to be so or if it even mattered what the artist’s intention had been. 

They found the next section of the gallery behind closed doors. A sign on the door read:

_WARNING: This room may potentially trigger seizures for people with photosensitive epilepsy. May also be disorienting for people prone to dizziness. Please approach an employee to bypass this portion of the exhibit._

Frank and Karen read the sign to themselves then turned to look at each other at the same time. 

“Do you… uh…” Frank hesitated, “need to skip this one?”

Karen shook her head. “You?”

Frank shook his head. 

“Shall we go inside?” Karen said grinning. 

Frank shrugged as if to say it didn’t matter to him either way but the warning sign had piqued his curiosity. 

“I’m a little scared,” Karen said.

“Ahh… whatever it is, it’s just art,” he said trying to reassure her. 

“I’ll stay close to you just in case,” she said linking her arm in his causing a swarm of butterflies to flutter from the pit of Frank’s stomach all the way up to his heart. 

They placed their empty wine glasses on a nearby table. With Karen’s arm in his Frank reached out and pushed the heavy door open and they stepped inside letting the door swing shut behind them. Straight ahead of them hung a heavy black velvet curtain and they pushed their way through it. 

It appeared as though everything in the room they walked into had been painted black. The walls, the ceiling, and even the floor. It was completely dark save for the tiny dots of lights that moved across all of the surfaces, like tiny stars. Several hundreds of thousands of them. Because of the darkness of the room they could not make out where the walls began and ended. They couldn’t even tell how high the ceiling went. Though it was difficult to determine the size of the room, it _felt_ infinite. Frank surmised that the artist had used mirrors to make some of the lights appear further away than they actually were. 

It felt like they were floating in the middle of the universe which was strange because Frank knew, logically, that there was ground beneath him and yet it felt like he wasn’t standing on anything at all. Karen evidently had the same sensation and grabbed onto his arm more tightly. 

They stood frozen in place, looking around them at all of the stars. The stars were moving together like schools of fish would underwater. 

“This…” Karen began. Her voice echoed in the room and they heard the fading “this” as though they were standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon. 

Frank looked straight ahead and couldn’t make out any other people in the darkness. 

“I think we’re alone in here,” he whispered his words bouncing around the room sounded like leaves rustling in the wind.

Karen leaned in, “The echoes are unnerving,” she whispered softly into his ear so that only he could hear and even then he heard a soft echo. Frank felt a shiver travel down his spine at the warmth of her breath against his skin. 

“Hello!” He said firmly, the sudden loudness of his voice causing Karen to jump. She laughed, her laughter chasing his fading “hello”. 

“Should we walk?” Karen asked Frank in a normal voice ignoring her question repeating around them. 

“Yes,” Frank said taking a tentative step forward feeling as though he was stepping off the edge of something. His foot landed on ground and he paused waiting for Karen to step forward too. 

“God, it feels like… like I’m going to fall,” she said holding onto his arm with both of her arms. 

“Don’t worry. I got you,” he said. 

_Don’t worry I got you._

_I got you._

_I got you._

The words rang around the room and in both of their ears. Frank turned around and met Karen’s eyes. They were standing close enough to each other that they could see each other’s faces. He could see the travelling stars reflecting in her eyes and shadows moving across her skin. The darkness in the room emphasized her cheekbones and he wanted to reach out and touch them. 

It was hard to believe that the world was still going on outside of this room. That only a few walls separated them from a city with millions of people crawling all over it. That they weren’t actually floating in space by themselves but were in fact in some random building in the middle of Manhattan. 

The sound of a door shutting behind them and the swish of the curtain being pulled aside broke the spell. Karen tore her eyes away from him letting out a tiny gasp that repeated several times inside the room and even more times inside of Frank’s head. 

“Yoooo,” they heard someone say and someone else laughed loudly. The echoes mixed together in an ugly discord and Frank no longer felt like he was alone in outer space with Karen. 

He guided Karen forward until they reached another velvet curtain and pushed through it and out another door. 

They stood there for a moment blinking in the light, the door clicking shut quietly behind them. In contrast to the previous room, this room was painted entirely white and hidden lights shone brightly from somewhere they could not see. They could not determine how far the room stretched in any direction, the edges of the walls once again hidden to the naked eye. But unlike the previous room, Frank felt like this room could be either very small or massive. 

Frank turned around to look at the door they had just walked through but could barely perceive it’s outline. He reached out with his hand, touching the door sooner than he had expected. Only then did his mind finally see the silhouette of the doorknob and door frame. Ahead of them they could see a red door but could not discern how far away it was. Could be a few feet or maybe a hundred or maybe a mile. Frank felt like he might be tripping.

“This is weird,” Karen said her words sounding crisp like a sharpened photograph.

It was then Frank realized there was no other noise in the room at all. Like all of the noise had been sucked out leaving behind a blanket of silence that pressed against his ears. There was no echo, there were no sounds of footsteps or voices, or sirens, or even the buzzing of flies. All he could hear was a faint ringing in his ears that he knew was a remnant of his days at war. A constant reminder of what he had gone through but that normally was faint enough not to notice. 

Karen tightened her grip around his arm and he could hear the swishing of the fabric of his shirt against her skin. He stood perfectly still and listened, ignoring his tinnitus. Karen was breathing, the air rushing in and out of her nostrils like wind through a tunnel. He heard a rumble, and realized it was his own stomach angrily demanding nourishment. He could hear his blood pumping through his veins, a whooshing inside his temples. 

“I think we’re in a soundproof room,” he said, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. 

He took a step forward and heard his knees creaking as he bent them. Like the crinkling of a bag of chips. Karen followed, her heel clicking against the ground with a sharp clack. 

“God, this is too weird. Let’s get out of here before those other people come in here,” Karen said. 

They began to walk towards the red door. Their footsteps sounding thunderous. Like they were a stampede of humans instead of just two. They walked at a normal pace, Karen clinging to Frank’s arm. 

The door loomed ahead of them and seemed to bounce slightly. There was no way this door could be that far away, Frank thought to himself. The building had appeared so small on the outside, it couldn’t possibly contain such a large room. 

And still they walked. And the door seemed to not grow any larger. In fact, it seemed to be shrinking. Frank quickened his pace and Karen hurried to keep up, taking dozens of tiny steps in a single one of his strides. He felt the quiet begin to suffocate him. Like a room with walls that were beginning to close in. He was glad Karen was holding on to his arm. She was like a string tied to a balloon to keep it from flying away and bursting in the atmosphere. He was the balloon, of course.

A click behind them made them stop abruptly in their tracks. They both turned to look at the same time. The two people from the previous room had come in but they appeared to be impossibly far. Tiny dark specks in a field of white.

“Yo what the fuck!” They heard one of them say, the voice sounding like it had come from right next to them. 

Karen jumped and let out a little yelp. 

“Come on,” Frank whispered and they broke out into a run.

Frank reached out with his hand hoping to touch the door sooner than expected. And all at once they were there. And the door was actually half the size of a normal door. Karen grabbed the knob, wrenched it open, and crawled through. 

Frank followed, shutting the door behind him. They were once again behind a curtain, but they could hear noise just beyond. Chatter, the clinking of glasses, and laughter. They burst through the curtain and Frank remembered to breathe. 

“You okay?” He asked Karen. Her eyes were wide and a bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face.

She nodded, “You?”

He nodded.

“God, that was so fucking weird,” Karen said and began to laugh heartily. Frank laughed along with her feeling the relief wash over him.

“Wow,” Frank said shaking his head, “That was like a fuckin’ acid trip.”

Karen laughed. “What do you think it meant?” 

Frank rubbed his chin as if he were thinking hard and Karen giggled. 

“I have no fucking idea,” he said throwing his hands in the air. She laughed loudly. “How the hell did we go from a smashed cell phone with a hammer to… that?"

“Seriously, this is the weirdest art gallery I’ve ever been to. I may write an article about it,” she said shaking her head.

They had reached the end of the exhibition. People were milling about finishing up wine glasses and discussing the art. Frank and Karen stood silently for a moment looking around the room and contemplating what they had just experienced. Every now and then another set of people would burst out of the curtains with wild looks in their eyes only to be quickly replaced by relief.

They meandered over to the coat check and back out through the lobby and Frank began to wonder if Karen wanted to do the last activity Florence had planned for them. 

They exited the gallery through the front and stood in the night chill. The city noise was deafening after the hushed gallery but Frank was relieved to be back out in the real world. Where things were exactly as far as you expected them to be and the familiar sounds of sirens and yelling was comforting. Karen rubbed her hands up and down her arms. 

“That was my first time at an art gallery,” he said.

Karen’s eyes widened, “Really?”

Frank nodded.

“Not even the Met?”

Franks shook his head.

“Well, what’d you think?”

“It was a lot more fun than I thought it would be,” he said, “And strange.”

“Yeah? Would you go to other ones?”

“Maybe,” Frank shrugged. _With you_ , he thought.


	7. Chapter 7

Karen bounced on her feet outside of the art gallery. It had gotten much colder since the beginning of the evening and she wished she had worn thicker tights. Frank stood beside her seemingly unaffected by the cold. She could tell he was stalling, not wanting to awkwardly ask her if she wanted to continue the date, and she wanted to tease him about it.

“So,” she said.

“So,” he returned. 

She blushed. She wanted to hold onto his arm again like she had inside of the room exhibits inside of the gallery. The feel of his muscular forearm through his shirt had thrilled her.

But it was more than just that really. She had felt safe holding on to him, as cliche as that sounded. The white room had been a little bit frightening and for a moment she had forgotten that they were just in a building in the city and not in some strange void that they’d never escape. Frank had been her link to reality in there and she knew she had been his. 

We could be a team… maybe, she thought.

Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer. She shoved him playfully, “Come on Frank, what’s next on the agenda?”

Frank looked delighted as he took out the last envelope from his back pocket. He handed it to her. 

Karen looked at it and felt its weight. She held it up to the light trying to see the contents without actually opening it.

“What are you doing?” Frank asked her.

“It doesn’t look like this contains tickets. It looks like just a piece of paper with some text. Probably a suggestion on where to go,” she said.

“Yeah? So open it.”

Karen smiled at him mischievously. 

“What if I don’t?” She asked him.

“What do you mean?”

“What if…” she bit her lip, “What if we do something else? And save this…”

“Save it?”

“Yeah… for another time?” She felt her face grow hot. “I mean, I’m not sure I’m ready for another weird activity, you know? Who knows what Florence chose for this last outing. Maybe she picked some weird restaurant where you have to go out to Central Park and hunt for your dinner or maybe she picked a place where the meals come in pill form, I don’t know.”

“Are you askin’ me on a date while we’re still on our first date, Karen?” Frank asked shaking his head and grinning.

“Maybe,” she said softly. 

He laughed and looked away before glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Alright, you don’t need to ask me twice,” he said, “it’s a date.”

Karen felt her heart skip a beat but she managed to keep her cool. “Great, I’ll hang on to this,” she said shoving it in her coat pocket.

“So, what do you wanna do now?” Frank asked her.

“Do you want to go grab a bite to eat? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, that cookie was not enough.”

“Yeah, and we could talk,” Karen said, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I had a lot of fun looking at weird scary art and drinking hot chocolate with almond milk and plant based marshmallows but I feel like I haven’t really gotten to know you yet. We haven’t had a chance to talk much and… I’d like to know more about you,” she said blushing hard again. 

Frank nodded and looked down at his boots. Karen could see that his ears had turned slightly red but she couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or from what she had just said. 

Feeling bold she continued, “I want to know more about Frank Castle.”

Frank met her eye and looked at her a moment before saying, “I wanna know more about you too, Karen.”

The way he said her name made her feel slightly dizzy and she wanted to hear him say it again. 

Softly.

In her ear.

In a whisper. 

“Uhm… we should get a cab,” she said interrupting her own thoughts. 

“Where are we going?”

“Oh, I know a place in Hell’s Kitchen, if you’re okay with that?”

Frank shrugged, “I’m down.”

Frank hailed a cab and they got in, Karen calling out directions to the driver. They each sat back and Karen looked out the window at the passing streaks of light. 

It was turning out to be the strangest date she had ever been on. Certainly the strangest first date. A hipster cafe and a scary art gallery. She shook her head and smiled. She’d have to ask Florence about the art gallery too. 

And of course, Frank, whom she still barely knew but at the same time felt like she had known forever. She was oddly comfortable around him. Like she didn’t need to put up a front or try to act a certain way or hide who she was the way she usually did on first dates. 

But the reality was she didn’t know him. Florence could vouch for him but how well did she know Florence really? This guy could be a serial killer for all Karen knew. 

She looked at Frank out of the corner of her eye. He was sitting staring out the window and lightly drumming his fingers on his knees. She had a good view of the side of his face from where she was sitting. The curve of his cheekbone and the sharp cut of his jawline which stood out even more prominently in the passing city lights. His hair, a little wavy, fell over his ears and a few curls lightly brushed the back of his neck.

What would it be like to run her fingers through his hair? To trace the outline of his jaw and feel the stubble against her fingers?

As if sensing her gaze, he turned to look at her. He smiled and Karen felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her.

“What?” He said.

“Nothing,” she said, almost breathless. She shook her head and turned to look out the window before Frank could fluster her any more.

The date had been strange but now it was beginning to get confusing. 

She couldn't really explain the way she was feeling. A little reckless, a little rash. Like she was standing at the edge of a precipice with the wind whipping through her hair getting ready to dive into the unknown. 

She remembered reading news stories about people falling in love over the phone, never having met each other, getting married six months later after only a handful of in-person dates, and _staying_ married well into old age. She had always wondered how that was even possible. Shouldn’t you have to get to know someone for at least a few months before things got really serious? And shouldn’t you be together for several years before tying the knot? True love at first sight is a myth, isn’t it? You’re supposed to work at it. Like a job.

Her own previous relationships seemed so structured in comparison to those love stories. Girl and boy meet, they go on a few dates, they date for at least one year before meeting each other’s families, career must always, _always_ , come before the relationship, and a minimum of five years together before there is even mention of marriage. 

Karen had never had a relationship go beyond three years. 

_This doesn’t make any sense_ , a voice inside her head argued, likely the rational voice. _This isn’t a fairytale. You can’t just fall in love with someone that quickly. You just can’t._

 _But there’s something about him_ , another voice countered, her impulsive side she assumed. _And maybe love isn’t supposed to make sense._

And so the battle raged on inside her mind.

One thing she knew for sure: she’d never felt this way about anyone before. 

The cab came to a stop outside of a small sandwich shop called Lenny’s Sandwiches. It was one of those places with red and white checkered tablecloths and vinyl booths with tears in the upholstery. Open until two in the morning, at this time of night it usually served drunk crowds wanting to stuff their faces with greasy food before heading to the next bar. Karen had discovered it one night after she had been working late and for some reason found it comforting. Maybe it was the tackiness of the place or how they didn’t pretend to be anything more than just a sandwich shop. In any case, the food was excellent.

Karen paid the cab driver and they got out.

“Not what I was expecting,” Frank said standing beside her with his hands on his hips.

“What were you expecting?”

“I dunno. Some place where they serve wheatgrass smoothies and an unsatisfying meal.”

“Well, I hope you’re not disappointed.”

“Yeah, I was really looking forward to spending 20 dollars on a smoothie and some carrots,” Frank said shaking his head and sighing heavily.

“Shut up,” Karen grinned and shoved him. 

Inside bossa nova music blared from an old school stereo on the counter. There were a few groups of drunk people wearing short dresses and snapbacks spread around a long table in the center, a couple of lone older men in the corners just wanting to eat a damn sandwich at 11 PM in peace, and the two of them, Karen and Frank. 

Karen slid into a booth near the window and Frank sat across from her. A graying man with a potbelly sauntered over to them with two menus.

“Miss Karen, pleasure to see you!” He said in a thick accent Karen had never been able to place. He flashed her a toothy grin.

“Hi Ricardo! This is my friend Frank,” she said.

“Frank? Welcome,” Ricardo said and the two of them shook hands. 

“Anything to drink? Coca cola for you Karen?” Ricardo asked.

Karen blushed, “You know, I think I’ll have a beer tonight, Ricardo.”

“No problem. And you, Mr. Frank?”

“I’ll have a beer too, thank you.”

“Okay. I be back with two beers,” Ricardo said and sauntered off again.

“You come here a lot?” Frank asked over the top of his menu.

“Yeah. Probably too much. I sit here in this booth sometimes and work on articles.”

“And drink coca cola.”

“Yes, Frank. And drink coca cola.”

Frank laughed. 

Ricardo brought out their beers and they ordered their meals. Italian beef for Frank and a BLT for Karen. They sat for a moment sipping at their drinks, looking out the window at passersby, and listening to the gentle tones of a saxophone. 

“Tell me about your life, Frank,” Karen said suddenly.

Frank turned to look at her, “What do ya wanna know?”

_Everything._

“Oh, I dunno. Start anywhere.”

Frank exhaled, “Well, let’s see. It was the early 80s in Queens, New York. I was born on a Sunday, at about 3 in the morning-”

“Frank,” Karen laughed.

“Okay,” he said smiling. He looked out the window for a moment as if collecting his thoughts. “Well, I’m from Queens,” he began, “Grew up there. I was a surprise baby. My parents had trouble conceiving for a long time and they had just about given up when bam my mom was suddenly expecting at age 40.”

He paused and took a sip of beer.

“I was a good kid up until puberty. I kinda fell into the wrong crowd then. We’d skip school and run around, sneak into the subway stations and ride the train into Manhattan. Steal shit. Stupid things like bags of chips or cassette tapes. I drove my parents sick with worry. They were devout Catholics, you know? They didn’t know what to do with me.”

Ricardo came up to the table carrying two large plates and Frank stopped talking. Karen waited a little impatiently as Ricardo set the plates down on the table.

“BLT for Miss Karen and Italian beef for Mr. Frank. Anything else?”

“No,” Karen said a little too quickly, “Not at the moment. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Frank said to Ricardo. “Bon appetit,” he said to Karen.

They each ate several bites of their sandwiches in silence for a few minutes. Karen hadn’t realized how hungry she had actually been and the BLT was hitting the spot. 

“So, your parents didn’t know what to do with you,” Karen said taking a sip of beer.

Frank nodded and swallowed, “Yeah. So there I was, skipping school and fuckin’ around. My parents tried to get me to go to church with them, tried to get me to join a youth group, hell, they even tried to get me to go see a therapist.” He shook his head, “None of it worked.”

He took another bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully no doubt remembering everything in his mind. He swallowed.

“Then, without me knowing, they enrolled me into military school.”

Karen’s eyes widened and she stopped chewing.

“Yeah, it was brutal. I was a real punk back then and to be sent to a place where they force you to wake up before the crack of dawn for an hour of PT, make you do push ups and shit as punishment for bad behavior, yell at you for not having your uniform on exactly according to standards… It was a real wake up call, y’know? But you wanna know what the crazy thing is?”

Frank paused and shook his head.

“I _liked_ it.”

Karen raised her eyebrow.

“Yeah. I was good at it too. I came back home the next summer and I was changed. My parents couldn’t believe it. I had a new set of priorities and I cut ties with my old friends. Started doin’ better at school and I knew what I wanted to do when I graduated.”

He stopped talking and ate a few more bites of his sandwich. Karen called Ricardo over and ordered another round of beer. 

“So, what did you want to do?” She asked. 

“I wanted to join the Marines.”

“Really?” 

Frank nodded, “Yeah. It felt good to be really good at something for once, y’know? So, I wanted to see how far I could go. Anyway, you can imagine what my parents thought about that.”

Karen shook her head.

“They hated the idea. My dad wanted me to work with him. He was a mechanic too and had me workin’ at his shop as a kid until I started acting out. My mom insisted I go to college.”

Ricardo brought out more beer and cleared the table of their empty glasses and plates.

“I had my mind made up though and they eventually accepted it,” Frank paused and rubbed the side of his neck with his hand, “A month after I came home for the summer my parents were killed in a drunk driving accident.”

Karen inhaled sharply, “God, Frank. I’m so sorry.”

Frank nodded, “Yeah. It was a long time ago.”

He picked up a sugar packet from the middle of the table and twisted it in his hands. Karen wanted to reach out and touch him.

“I’m happy they at least got to see me turn my life around before they died,” he said.

“I’m sure they were very proud.” Karen said. She bit her lip. Her heart ached for what teenage Frank must have gone through. “I had a brother,” she said before she could stop herself.

Frank stopped fiddling with the sugar packet and looked up at her.

Karen blew air out of her mouth. “Kevin. My little brother. He was killed in a car accident too.”

She blinked and looked out the window. 

“I was in the car with him,” she said before Frank could speak, “He was 15. I was 18 and a senior in high school.”

“Jesus. I’m sorry,” Frank said. He reached out and took her hand and she looked down at it feeling grateful.

“It was a long time ago," she shrugged, "I uh… don’t really talk about it actually,” she said. In fact, she had never told anyone about it since moving away from home and she didn’t know why she was telling Frank now. Maybe because he could relate. Because they could share the pain of losing someone so abruptly. 

“You never really get over that kinda loss, huh?” Frank said. He squeezed her hand.

Karen shook her head, “No.”

They sat quietly together holding hands, each lost in their own memories. Though it hurt her to talk about Kevin, over the years the pain had lessened to a dull ache. In the beginning she wouldn't have been able to say his name without crying. Now, as guilty as it made her feel, the car accident felt distant. Like it had happened to someone else. 

“Anything for dessert?” Ricardo said reappearing at the table. 

Frank and Karen quickly let go of each other’s hands.

“The apple pie is really good,” Karen said after a moment. She smiled at Frank.

“One apple pie to share, please,” Frank said to Ricardo.

Ricardo brought out a slice of pie and two spoons and set it in the middle of the table.

“So did you end up joining the marines?” Karen asked picking up one of the spoons.

Frank nodded, “Yup. I served for 16 years and completed a degree while on active duty. Make my momma proud.”

Karen smiled and took a bite of pie.

“Well, thank you for your service,” she said.

Frank shrugged, “Ah, you don’t have to say that.”

“I know.”

He smiled.

“What made you leave the Marines and rejoin the civilian world?” Karen asked.

Frank sighed. “I wanted to start a family.”

Karen couldn’t help but think that it was one of the sweetest things Frank had said all night. 

“That didn’t work out, obviously, “ Frank said. 

“What do you mean?”

“Ahh well, I came home early after I was discharged. Wanted to surprise my wife. Turns out she had been cheating on me for several months.”

“Ugh, that sucks.”

Frank laughed. “It’s okay. I’m over it.”

He put down his spoon and ran his hand through his hair and scratched the back of his neck.

“Anyway, enough about me. What about you, Karen? Tell me about yourself.”

Karen pushed around a piece of pie with her spoon. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?”

Karen laughed. “Hmm…” She tapped her cheek with her finger, “Dog.”

“Good answer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: Frank and Karen continue their conversation as the clock ticks closer and closer to 2 AM.


	8. Chapter 8

It was way past midnight and Frank and Karen were still sitting in the booth at Lenny’s Sandwiches. All of the customers who had been in there when they had arrived had already left and only two other people had come in after that.

Ricardo was sitting behind the counter listening to the radio and reading a newspaper. Frank and Karen may as well have been all alone.

They were on their third round of beer and had just finished up a piece of apple pie. 

“My life is really not that interesting,” Karen was saying.

“Aw come on. I just told you my life story,” Frank said. 

Karen was smiling into her drink and shaking her head and Frank figured she was probably a little tipsy. He was beginning to feel the effects of the beer too.

“Okay well, I was born in Vermont. I was a planned baby,” she said winking, “and so was my brother. Actually, in the beginning we were the quintessential American family. Two kids, one boy and one girl. A nice house with an actual white picket fence. My mother was a homemaker and could stay home with us kids. My dad taught Chemistry at the University of Vermont.”

Karen paused and took a long sip of beer.

“Anyway, I was a good kid. Did well in school, had extracurricular activities… a real goodie goodie,” she laughed. “I didn’t know what I wanted to do after I graduated. I worked on the school’s yearbook and my best subject was English so I figured journalism was probably a good choice. I applied to a couple of different schools and got into a really good one in Syracuse and I decided to pursue it.”

She sat back in her chair, the vinyl squeaking as she shifted in her seat, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She was still wearing her coat, the insulation at Lenny’s wasn’t very good and every time someone came in a cold gust of air followed them, but she had removed her scarf. Frank fought to keep his eyes on her face but every so often his gaze would slide down to her lips and neck. As they were doing now.

He coughed. “So, did you end up liking it?”

“What? Journalism?”

Frank nodded.

“Actually, yeah,” she smiled. “And I worked my ass off at school, and at my internship and subsequent job. And now I work my ass off at The Bulletin too.”

Frank smiled. He liked the way Karen talked about her work. It reminded him a little bit about the way he had felt about being a Marine. Proud and accomplished and like he was doing something important. 

“So, that’s pretty much my life,” Karen said downing the rest of her beer.

“I bet there’s more to it than that,” Frank said. He hesitated a moment and then said, “What about relationships? D’you ever have anything serious?”

Karen shook her head, “Not really. I’ve never been married or engaged. I had one serious relationship in college but we broke it off when we graduated. He wanted to go to med school in Florida and I was off to Chicago and we didn’t believe in long distance relationships.”

“Florida?” Frank shuddered and wondered how a guy could choose going to Florida over staying with a woman like Karen.

Karen laughed. “I hear it’s not so bad down there. It’s warm at least.” 

“I guess. Nowhere like New York City though,” Frank said.

“True,” Karen said smiling.

Frank wondered how it was possible that Karen was still single. Dating had gotten significantly harder in his 30s compared to a decade ago. Most women around his age were married with kids or newly divorced with kids and looking to party. And he wasn’t really interested in dating women who were a decade younger than he was. He had yet to meet a 25 year old woman who wasn’t immature and who wanted to settle down. And Frank really wanted to settle down.

So it surprised him that Karen, who had a job, an education, a good head on her shoulders, and supermodel good looks, hadn’t already been snagged up by some guy. She really must work that much, he thought. 

Ricardo came by again and asked them if they wanted to order another round of drinks. 

Karen looked at Frank and shrugged, “I think I’ll just have water this round.”

Frank agreed and Ricardo brought them two tall glasses of water.

“So, Karen,” Frank said, “What do you like to do for fun?”

“Fun? Oh boy… let’s see,” she stared out the window and seemed to be thinking hard. “You know, I… I haven’t had much time for fun. I used to go to bars and stuff like that back in college but since I graduated I’ve really mostly focused on work. I like reading… and I try to get brunch with friends on Sundays. I also actually really like art galleries,” she grinned.

“You ever think of slowing down? I mean… working less?”

“Not until just now,” she said.

They remained quiet for a moment before Karen spoke again.

“Actually… I haven’t had this much fun in a really long time.”

“Me too,” Frank said.

“No, I mean. I really haven’t,” she insisted, “It’s like I had forgotten… that there’s more to life than just my job.”

“I can relate. I was in the Marines for 16 years. Actually, it was one of the things Maria complained about. I was always gone. And I’ll admit, it was hard to leave my career behind. I almost signed on for four more years. But… well, I ain’t getting any younger, am I?”

“Are you happier?”

Frank considered this before answering. “Yeah, I think so. Life’s just different now. And my priorities are different.”

Karen nodded. They sat quietly and drank their water. The restaurant had completely emptied out and even the radio had been turned off. Ricardo was currently trying not to fall asleep behind the counter. 

“What do you like to do for fun, Frank?” Karen asked. 

Frank cracked his knuckles, “I play the guitar-”

“Really?”

“Yeah…”

“You’ll have to play for me sometime,” Karen said.

“I’d like that.”

Karen blushed and looked down at the table avoiding his eyes, “What else?”

“After work my coworkers and I go and play pool sometimes. And I like to wander around the city. People watch, y’know? You never know what you’re going to see around here.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Frank shrugged, “Like that guy playing piano in the middle of the sidewalk.”

Karen laughed remembering, “Wow, that was hours ago. This is my longest first date ever.”

“Mine too,” Frank agreed.

They heard a snort in the corner and a yelp. 

“Sorry guys. It’s closing time,” Ricardo said from the stool he was sitting on. He was rubbing his eyes and had obviously been sleeping. Frank glanced at his watch. It was just past two in the morning. 

Frank and Karen got up from the booth and Karen swayed a little. Frank automatically reached for her to steady her, placing one of his hands on the small of her back.

“You okay?” 

Karen nodded, “Yeah, just a little too much to drink.”

She grabbed her glass of water from the table and chugged the rest of it.

They split the bill and paid at the counter. They thanked Ricardo who apologized again about closing, and left the restaurant. 

Outside it had gotten even colder and Karen wrapped her coat around her as tightly as she could. She jammed her hands into her pockets then pulled one out again.

“I forgot about this,” she said holding up the white rose Frank had used to identify himself. It had been slightly squashed inside her coat pocket. She held it up to her nose and sniffed, the petals brushing against her lips. Frank swallowed, his throat feeling dry again despite just having had three beers and a water.

“So,” he said his voice sounding hoarse. He did not want the night to end.

“So,” she said. 

“Can I walk you home?”

Karen nodded. 

They walked slowly side by side, Karen occasionally bumping her shoulder with his as she struggled to walk in her heels. The sidewalk was mostly bare. Every now and then they passed a club or a bar with a line of people waiting to get in. But for the most part they were by themselves. 

Frank was very aware of her presence next to him. She was walking close to him and her hand was swinging a few inches away from his. Just as he was thinking about grabbing her hand, their arms collided.

“Sorry,” Karen said smiling.

In a moment of courage, which was probably due to the beer he had had, Frank took her hand in his. She looked at him in surprise but didn’t say anything. Instead she interlaced her fingers with his and Frank felt like his heart would burst. 

They walked hand in hand but didn’t speak. Frank’s mind was racing. She likes me, he thought. He unconsciously squeezed her hand. 

It felt like the happiest he had ever been. He knew he was falling for Karen. He was falling harder and faster than he ever had before. Some part of him wanted him to slow down and take it easy but another much larger part couldn’t. 

She was everything he wanted and more. She was smart and ambitious but also lighthearted and sweet. And she was honest. He felt like he could trust her and he wanted her to trust him. He wanted to be that person for her. To be the one that she called when she was in need. 

What were the chances that the perfect girl for him happened to work with his childhood friend who was also his neighbor? What were the chances that he and Karen would both be single at the same time and be set up for a blind date with each other? In a city of millions, he knew the chances were slim. 

And yet here they were. And Frank felt like the luckiest man in the world. 

They didn’t say anything else for the rest of the walk. It was cold but Frank barely felt it. All he could think about was the feel of Karen’s hand in his and how he couldn’t wait to see her again. 

“This is me,” Karen said all too soon. They stopped walking. 

They stood outside a gray apartment building. Karen turned to face Frank, still holding his hand.

“I had a really good time,” she said. She was blushing and smiling.

“Me too.”

They stood there staring at each other and Frank felt his heart thundering in his chest. She took the rose, which she was holding in her other hand, and ran it across her lips. Her eyes never left his. 

He wasn’t sure who leaned in first but a moment later their faces were almost touching. Frank cupped her face with his free hand and she moved the rose away from her lips and closed her eyes. He pressed his lips to hers, softly, and she responded.

It was sweet and it was gentle and it was warm and Frank felt like his entire life had been leading up to this moment. It was exactly what he would have imagined kissing Karen Page would be like. She let go of his hand and wrapped her arms around him. 

There they stayed, underneath a street lamp with their lips locked, feeling like the only two people left on the planet.

When they finally came up for air, Karen laughed and leaned her forehead against his. They were both smiling and Frank couldn’t help but kiss her again. Small kisses, on her lips, until they found themselves once again in a passionate embrace. 

Frank didn’t know how long they stood there kissing but eventually Karen broke free. 

“I should go,” she whispered. 

Frank nodded. 

Karen reached into her pocket and waved the second envelope Florence had given him. “Are we still on for this?”

“Hell yeah,” Frank said and Karen laughed. 

“How about next weekend?” Karen suggested.

Frank nodded. “Next weekend works.”

She leaned in again and pecked him on the lips. 

“See you then, Frank,” she whispered.

“See you. Karen.”

\------------------

Karen floated up the stairs to her apartment. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it. The feel of Frank’s lips against hers lingered. She brought her hand up to her mouth. She could still feel the tickle of his stubble. 

She sighed and looked across her living room at the window that looked out onto the street. She hurried over to it and looked out. Frank was walking slowly towards the nearest intersection. Before she could even think she pushed her window open. 

“FRANK!” She called.

Frank turned around and looked up, spotting her in the window.

She waved. “GOODNIGHT FRANK!”

His face broke into a grin. He cupped his hands around his mouth.

“NIGHT KAREN!”

Karen laughed and waved again feeling like an insane person. They stood and looked at each other for a moment. Then she waved once more and retreated back into her apartment. 

In bed she hugged a pillow to her chest and replayed the kiss in her mind over and over again. Eventually she drifted off to sleep with Frank still on her mind.

\-----------------------------

Frank walked all the way home. It took over an hour but he didn’t really notice. He was still thinking about Karen. About her embrace.

Back in his apartment he tossed and turned until the sun began to peek over the horizon and its rays shone through the gaps in the blinds. He lay on his bed with his arms behind his head. 

He sighed and glanced at the alarm clock next to his bed. It was 6:30 in the morning. He ran his hand across his face. It was going to be another long week.

He was just thinking about getting up to make some coffee when he heard a sharp knocking on his front door. He got up and stretched, wondering who would be visiting him this early in the day. He opened the door without checking the peephole. It was Florence. 

\----------------------

“So?” Florence asked as soon as Frank opened the door.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Do you?”

Frank groaned as she pushed past him.

“You look terrible,” she said as she made her way into the kitchen. “Come on, I’ll make us some coffee.”

Frank sat down at the kitchen table with his head in his hands. Florence started the coffee maker and sat across from him.

“So, tell me, do you love her?”

Frank laughed and shook his head. He didn’t answer.

Florence let out an exasperated sigh, “Don’t keep me in suspense! What time did you get home last night?”

Frank shrugged, “Around three, I think.”

Florence gasped. “So, it went well!”

Frank nodded.

Florence clapped her hands and jumped up from her chair. She hugged Frank. “Oh Frankie, I knew it! I’m so happy for you.”

She hurried over to the coffee maker and poured two cups of coffee setting one down in front of Frank.

“Now… I want every detail.”

“Well, you’re not getting any. Sorry,” Frank said ignoring his coffee.

“Ugh,” Florence rolled her eyes but she understood. “Well, I’m just so happy you had a good time. So, you like her, right?”

Frank rolled his eyes but he nodded.

Florence squealed. 

They sat together quietly while they drank their coffee. Frank sat across from her taking a sip every now and then but mostly just staring into space. She shook her head as she watched him. She had never seen him like this. So lost in thought. So much in a daydream. Frank Castle was not the kind of guy to just daydream. 

They must have something really special, she thought to herself. And she smiled feeling happy for the two of them and glad that she had played a part in the beginning of something that she knew would change the course of Frank and Karen’s lives forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay for this last bit. I think I'm going to end it here. My intention with the story was to write solely about the blind date and not turn it into a saga about their relationship :D Even though I can already see it in my mind. I have other ideas I want to get to though. Thanks so much to everyone who read this and also to those who left comments. I appreciate any and all feedback. Hope you guys enjoyed it. <3


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